


Hair's Breadth

by myonly_hope



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, That's it, obi-wan kenobi's stupid sexy hair, that's the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:28:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29594184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myonly_hope/pseuds/myonly_hope
Summary: You are a Jedi Knight, master of control, wit and nerve... until Obi-Wan Kenobi walks into the room.(This is self-indulgent trash but I'm feeling my feels okay)
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 52





	Hair's Breadth

There was not much that could distract you. You had once meditated peacefully for twenty minutes as Ahsoka, Rex and Anakin bickered loudly about a game of chess. You had even kept your cool in a battle against droids when a Gundark had charged onto the battlefield. But if there was one thing that could send your brain into a fog and thoroughly distract you from what was at hand, it was Obi-Wan Kenobi. More specifically, it was Obi-Wan Kenobi’s stupid, perfect hair.

It was stupid, incredibly, undeniably, pathetically stupid, that the turn of the Jedi Master’s head, the flick of that golden hair, sent your brain into overdrive. Even at your skill level and all the trials the Order and the galaxy had put you through, you were reduced to a malfunctioning mess of non-responsive brain cells at the mere glimpse of him. 

The first time you had met him, introduced to him by your Master after you had been made a Knight, your usual calm and collected manner had crumbled, and you could barely string a sentence together.

“Master Luminara has spoken very highly of you.” He flashed you a smile and bowed his head in polite greeting, a section of hair unlodging itself from it’s coiffed position and dropping softly over his eye. When he looked up at you, you felt your heart stop.

“I-I thank you Ma-aster,” you stuttered, palms sweaty as they clutched the sleeves of your robe, “the… it… mutual.” You nodded, and both Obi-Wan and Luminara had frowned.

“I think what my Padawan means to say is… I speak very highly of you too, Master Kenobi.” Luminara narrowed her eyes at you, and you had turned your gaze to the floor, resolving to say nothing more to save you, your Master and Master Kenobi the embarrassment.

It happened often. More often than you’d like to admit. It didn’t matter how comfortable you had been seconds before - how outgoing and composed, the moment Obi-Wan Kenobi walked in the room and, inevitably, ran his fingers through his hair, you were reduced to a stuttering, helpless mess.

Once in a meeting, you had been so  _ focused _ on a stray piece of hair that had fallen over Obi-Wan’s eyes as he listened to Master Windu talk, that you had completely missed that the attention in the room had turned to you, Master Yoda having asked you a question. When Obi-Wan’s sparkling blue eyes met yours, narrowed under his furrowed brow, your throat had gone dry, and your eyes had darted around the room, desperate for a distraction, finding only expectant glares.

“Sorry, err… what was the question?”

When you had been in a cafe on coruscant with your friend, the briefest moment of pause in the otherwise hectic life of a Jedi Knight, and Obi-Wan had waltzed through the doors, greeting the owner like he was an old friend, you had dropped the cups of kaf you had retrieved from the counter, mugs shattering on the floor. Obi-Wan had immediately sprung to your aid, and part of you wished he hadn’t, because when he crouched to the floor at the same time as you to collect the pieces of splintered porcelain, his hand brushed against yours and you swore your heart stopped. 

He looked up at you, from beneath that dislodged piece of hair that swayed between you, and no, maybe your heart hadn’t stopped. Maybe it was just beating so fast you could no longer discern a heartbeat. 

Now, on some far off planet in the outer rim, battling battle droids like your life depended on it (because it did), your eyes still somehow managed to drift over from the droid you had so expertly slain, to  _ him. _ Obi-Wan, with his lightsaber clasped in both hands, bringing the blade down violently into a battle droid. And his goddamn hair, loose and wild with the movement of battle. 

“Watch out!” Someone called from nearby, and your senses picked up on an impending threat. You had managed to turn from your distraction just in time to stop a separatist soldier from delivering a fatal blow with a dagger, lightsaber sending his weapon flying. That didn’t stop his momentum though, and with a blood-curdling scream, the soldier ran into you. You found yourself hurtling across the desert battlefield, body colliding with sand and rock until finally, your head hit something sharp and darkness overwhelmed you.

You woke up on a ship, speeding through space away from a battle you had only half fought. The ceiling above you spun as you struggled out of the grogginess of your unconsciousness, faint flickers of thought crossing your brain until…

You groaned, immediately the memory of the battle overwhelming every thought process. Obi-Wan. His hair. The pure  _ stupidity _ of the reason you had failed to see the fight to its close. You reached up, covering your face with your hands, pressing the heels of your palm into your eyes until you could only see blackness.

“I’m glad to see you awake, Commander,” an all too familiar voice interrupted your self deprecating inner monologue, and you turned in shock to see the very reason you were kicking yourself sitting in a chair across the room. He was sitting in his usual casual position, leaning back into the cushions, arms resting nonchalantly on the armrests and ankle resting on knee. You swallowed, and turned your gaze away from him, fixing it on the ceiling instead.

“I take it we won?” You murmured, and Obi-Wan chuckled. 

“We did.”

You could hear the smile in his voice and you fought so hard not to turn and look at him. A silence settled over you, the only sounds a steady beep of a monitor and the gentle buzzing of your movement through space.

“What are you doing here?” You finally broke the silence. It wasn’t like you weren’t friends. In fact, over the last few months, you had grown even closer, and when you had managed to maintain your cool long enough to hold a conversation with him, you had both grown to value each other’s company. 

However, if you had been expecting to see him here, waiting for you to wake up, it would’ve only been in the company of Ahsoka and Anakin. Not alone.

Obi-Wan cleared his throat, and you heard him shuffling, standing from the chair and making his way over to the bed in which you lay. You held your breath, fixing your eyes to the ceiling to avoid the possibility of losing your mind over the sight of him. But that became increasingly more difficult when, after feeling the slight dip in the mattress by your hip, Obi-Wan’s face moved directly in your line of sight, looking down at you with a small, worried smile. 

“I felt somewhat responsible for your being here,” he said softly, with a slight hint of jest, but an overwhelming amount of care. 

“I’m sorry.” You squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head. You felt like an idiot. You were a Jedi Knight. You were one of the greatest swordsmen in the republic. And you were brought down by these feelings that were so forbidden. 

“It’s alright.” Obi-Wan remained gentle, and you almost hated him for it, wanting him to scold you. To knock some sense into you. He let the quiet wash over you again, letting it linger until it finally felt comfortable, the anxiety in your body finally draining away. 

You sighed, and slowly peeled your eyes open again. He was still there, looking down at you with concern. When you shot him a reassuring grin, wanting him to know he was absolutely not to blame for your current predicament, he gave you a toothy grin back, and the shift in his expression dislodged the strand of hair that plagued your actions. 

“It wasn’t very… Jedi of me.” You met his eyes, and they glinted affectionately down at you, crystal blue irises glowing with the harsh light of the medic bay. 

“I suppose not,” Obi-Wan shrugged, “but it’s nothing to worry about.” 

“I wouldn’t say that,” you murmured, shaking your head. Obi-Wan cocked his head at you, urging you to continue.

“I just mean… I shouldn’t be this… I’m not usually so…” The words fled your brain again, and you cursed the man before you for stealing them. 

“If you’re worried that you’re any less of a Jedi because of your feelings, I can reassure you you are not,” Obi-Wan said firmly, his smile reassuring. You looked up at him, eyes softening, his words bringing you a sense of calm. Then, it was Obi-Wan’s turn to be brave. He shuffled a little closer to you, scratching his beard in thought.

“The same… I too… Feelings.” He frowned, and you couldn’t help but throw your head back, a soft laugh escaping your lips. 

“You’ve turned into me,” you giggled, and Obi-Wan shot you a toothy grin, composing his thoughts before speaking again.

“I too find myself in your predicament,” he mused, and your once jovial expression hardened into a more serious one. You swallowed, nodding your head and looking down.

“Oh,” you murmured. You should’ve known. I mean there were rumours, particularly regarding Duchess Satine, but you had often forced yourself not to listen to them to avoid giving yourself any more heartache.

Obi-Wan watched the sadness leak out onto your features and frowned, shaking his head.

“I don’t think I am articulating myself very well here,” he chuckled, and you sucked in a breath.

“No, no. I understand Obi-Wan. You don’t have to worry about-”

“You are who I…” he interrupted you and then trailed off, unsure of how to word it in a way that would be appropriate. Perhaps in the context of you and him, there wasn’t one, so he just hoped, looking down at you as you so desperately fought to keep yourself from looking at him, that you could read into what he had left unsaid. 

It took a while, your thoughts initially too clouded to fully process what he meant, but a few seconds later, you felt the air leave your lungs. You looked up, meeting his eyes again, searching for any jest or malice. 

Only affection. 

He smiled down at you sadly and your stomach fluttered at the new feeling that accompanied looking at him now. The feeling of your feelings being reciprocated. You smiled, then laughed, reaching up and threading that damn piece of hair between your fingers finally.

“You and your stupid hair, Obi-Wan Kenobi,” you muttered, and Obi-Wan was surprised at your sudden confidence. He pursed his lips to stop the grin that was threatening to stretch his cheeks.

“I can cut it if you’d like?” He teased, no longer able to stop the smile from tugging at his lips when your eyes widened in shock, fingers running across his scalp to knot your fingers in the hair on the back of his head. 

You tugged him downwards lightly, but he needed no encouragement, leaning down until his lips were a hair’s breadth from your own

“Don’t even think about it.”


End file.
